The Dangers of Fairy Wine
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: Fae wine is not meant for human consumption. It has a habit of knocking down inhibitions...and maybe helping some reluctant Librarians take some long-awaited steps forward.


The day started off normal. The Clippings Book sent them a case about a new seaside resort that was about to break ground. Turned out that ground belonged to the local selkie pod, and they were _not_ too happy about their home being turned into a summer playground for the richy-riches. It hardly seemed like the kind of thing they would be involved in, but according to Jenkins, that particular selkie pod had made a home over an intersection of not two but three different ley lines and used their own magic to control the magical runoff. It was not a place that humans should live on for any length of time.

Jacob was the one to find the solution; the building contracts for the resort had been obtained illegally through some kind of paperwork fuckery that gave Ezekiel a headache thinking about. But either way, the resort ended up being conveniently relocated to another site that was quite far away from any ley lines.

And the selkies decided to throw them a party to celebrate.

For a bunch of semi-humans that lived in caves, they sure knew how to treat their guests. They gave Cassandra a set of pearls so perfect they almost made Ezekiel cry. Jacob was given a set of books taken from a sunken ship, somehow still intact and legible; the historian actually teared up a little. And Ezekiel got pirate treasure. Real bloody pirate treasure, Spanish gold coins and a handful of precious stones. The gifts more than made up for the fact that the only food they served was raw seafood.

And then the selkies broke out a bottle of something they called _joie_. Jenkins had said before they left the Annex something about Fae wine not being meant for normal humans, but hey, what kind of Librarians would they be if they insulted their hosts? And Ezekiel _was_ the Library's delegator after all.

It was served in a glass no bigger than a shot glass, really, made of crystal as thin and delicate as an eggshell; the liquid inside was clear and slightly viscous, with sharp, heady fumes. The _joie_ tasted heavenly, and it burnt like winter's kiss, so cold all down his throat into his stomach where it pooled like fire, warming his veins. The magical torches lighting the cavern all seemed to burn brighter, and he had the absurd desire to kiss everyone. They were all so _beautiful_.

Everything went kind of fuzzy after that. He remembered dancing with the selkies. And with Cassandra. And Jacob, too. He was quite sure that he made out with someone, too. Maybe two someones. He was quite sure it was two someones. In his ears, he heard the ocean, waves peaking and crashing with a low, throbbing pulse, and yet he could taste mountain air, cold, high places. His skin prickled with awareness, hot and cold at once, and in the centre of his chest, he felt a golden spiral unfurl, stretching up through him, warming his blood, and it only got better when his glass was refilled. More than a few times.

After _that,_ everything went _really_ fuzzy.

It cleared up a little when he tripped on the way out of the caves and fell into the surf, the slap of cold, salty water bringing him back around. He had a rather embarrassing recollection of floundering in the shallow water, sputtering and coughing, unable to coordinate his limbs enough to get up. Jacob and Cassandra ended up wading out to get him, since he somehow managed to flail his way out into thigh-high water.

Somewhere between the beach and the Back Door, he kissed Jacob on the mouth because the cowboy was laughing and grinning and he looked so _good_ that Ezekiel couldn't quite help himself. Jacob tasted like laughter and salt and _joie_. When he staggered back a step from Jacob, he staggered right into Cassandra, who wrapped both arms around his waist and kissed him, too. She tasted like _joie_ , too, and strawberries. He pulled away from them, looking between them with a broad smile…

…and then he blacked out.

* * *

When he woke up, he was all wet again. He was also wet and naked. But he was wet, naked, and warm, so it wasn't a big problem. Ezekiel realised in a fuzzy, belated way that they were in a shower, and there were hands moving across his body, washing him with something bubbly and pleasant-smelling, rinsing the salt out of his hair. His cheek rested against the smooth curve of a shoulder, and he could see red hair, darker and curling with damp, which meant it was Cassandra. And that translated into the hands gently scrubbing his back belonged to Jacob.

There was something a little weird with this, he knew that there was, but everything still felt thick and muggy inside his head. He was still all fuzzy, and it was warm, and he was safe with them there. Instead of trying to argue with it, he just closed his eyes and went back to sleep, just for a moment….

When he opened them again, he was in a bed that wasn't his and he wasn't alone in it, either. Turning his head, he saw Cassandra on her knees, hands gripping the headboard white-knuckle tight, and Jacob kneeling behind her, intent on shagging her senseless. The sight of them together like that made emotion well up inside him; it wasn't anger or jealousy. He wasn't sure _what_ it was, just that there was a _lot_ of it, and he was pretty sure that he wanted very badly to be in on what they were doing. He didn't know if he made a noise or moved somehow, but Cassandra turned her head towards him. "He's awake," she panted, then straightened and pulled away from Jacob, who didn't seem at all perturbed by the sudden cease-and-desist. She crawled across the bed to him, looping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

Ezekiel responded eagerly, one hand going in her hair, which was still damp from the shower, and the other cupping one breast, brushing his thumb across the tight peak of her nipple. She moaned, curling her tongue against his, and then she grasped his wrist, drawing his fingers out of her hair and bringing them considerably further south. He slid his hand between her legs—she really was a natural redhead—and found her wet and ready. It wasn't the only place she was wet, either, and he understood that she and Jacob had been engaging in anal sex.

A stab of fierce delight shot through his chest, and Ezekiel growled against her lips as he slipped his fingers across her folds, into her unexplored depths. Cassandra keened softly, nails digging into his shoulders, wriggling against him. Ezekiel pulled his lips from hers to gasp in a breath and saw Jacob there, kneeling behind Cassandra, kissing along her shoulders and neck, drawing her hair out of the way. Blue eyes met brown, and he nodded once. Jacob released the mathemagician's hair and leant back to give them room.

Pulling his hand from between her legs, Ezekiel grasped Cassandra by the hips and rolled them over so she was on her back beneath him. She spread her legs for him to settle between, aligning their hips like it was the most natural thing in the world to do. He sucked a dark mark on her throat over her pulse point, then bit down on her shoulder as he sank into her up to the hilt. She gasped and scratched at his back, nails leaving red lines down his shoulder blades, and he growled again, her body tight and warm around him. He thrust into her a few times, relishing the sensation of her, knowing that he was first to be inside her like this, something that Jacob hadn't had yet, then found a rhythm.

Ezekiel slowed his movements, though, when work-callused hands touched his shoulders, sliding down his back, and he felt the bed shift as the historian moved in close behind him. Cassandra must've noticed, too, because she wasn't squirming impatiently anymore, watching in rapt attention and anticipation.

If anybody had ever asked before today, Ezekiel would've said that Jacob Stone was as straight as they came. Now he was seriously reevaluating that idea, because the man was moving with the easy familiarity of someone who knew what they were doing, obviously not his first rodeo. Slick fingers teased along his inner thighs before one entered him, and he shuddered. Cassandra lifted her hips, pushing against him, and he moved into her. Jacob moved his fingers in time, first one, then adding another. It was hard to concentrate on a steady pace, but Cassandra didn't seem to care about that, moaning as she watched over Ezekiel's shoulder, rolling her hips up to meet his.

Jacob slid one callused hand up his back and pulled his fingers away, leaning his body over theirs, aligning their hips. Ezekiel whimpered a little. He'd bottomed before, with other partners, but it'd been more than just a while since he'd done it, and Jacob wasn't exactly small. The sting wasn't entirely unpleasant, though, and it helped that Cassandra was kissing him and whispering things positively X-rated in his ear, letting him get to that place he needed to relax. Finally, Jacob was fully inside him, and Ezekiel felt like his mind had melted out of his ears, full and enveloped at the same time. At first, they didn't know quite how to move together, just sort of awkwardly shifting, but then Cassandra and Jacob began taking their cues from Ezekiel, pulling out and pushing in together.

The sensation of touch was overwhelming, overloading his thoughts until there was nothing except for them and movement and pleasure. He wanted it to be good for Cassandra, for Jacob, for all of them, hell, but he was not going to last like this. He couldn't. He cried out wordlessly as the tension suddenly coiled tight and snapped, white stars blinking behind his eyelids, and Cassandra gasped his name, drawing her nails down his arms in bloody red stripes as she came with him, inner muscles rippling around him, milking him for all he was worth.

Jacob gave him a moment to breathe, then growled softly, hooked an arm around his chest and pulled them upright, off of Cassandra, into a kneeling position. The thief whimpered, almost too sensitive from orgasm, unable to do much more than hold onto the other man's arms and moan. Every brush against his prostate made him arch and shiver. Jacob bit down hard on his shoulder, hard enough to draw blood when he came, spilling hot inside him.

He was aware that he was shaking, gasping for breath, endorphins and lightning sliding through his veins in lazy tides. Jacob pulled out and let him down gently on the bed and laid down beside him. Cassandra peppered his face in kisses and Jacob stroked his side until he could climb back into his own head again. "You still awake in there?" Jacob asked, kissing the soft spot under his ear.

He moaned a little in his throat, about the only noise that he was capable of making at the moment.

"Next time _I'm_ going in the middle," Cassandra murmured.

* * *

He woke up to sunlight streaming through the window and something smelling positively _heavenly_. Ezekiel opened on eye and started to sit up a little, then winced. Ouch. Despite that damned wine, he didn't have any kind of hangover. No headache, nausea, or urge to puke, just an all-over soreness that had very little to do with alcohol. They'd gone for more than one round, and their night of debauchery was catching up to him hard. He could feel it in his _everything_ , gritty and sore and scratched and bruised. Cassandra was still asleep next to him, which meant that it had to be Jacob responsible for the wonderful smells.

He debated whether or not it'd be worth the soreness to get up and see what Jacob was doing, but before he could make up his mind, the cowboy appeared in the doorway. He was shirtless and wearing a pair of plaid pyjama trousers. That made Ezekiel finally get around to wondering whose place they were at and pegged it as Jacob's, confirmed by the sight of a few flannel shirts hanging in the closet and the Greek book on the bedside table. The bedroom was bigger than in most flats, and it had a neat, clean look that made him peg it as expensive. What kind of money did the cowboy have?

"Morning." Jacob had a little folding tray in his hands, and the heavenly aroma was coming from it. "Here. You sit up a little?" he asked, and Ezekiel sat up enough for the cowboy to set the tray on his lap. It held three plates full of eggs, French toast, bacon, and fried potatoes. "I didn't think you two would want to get up."

"You read my mind," Ezekiel agreed. "Oh, that looks good."

"Watch this." Jacob picked up a mug full of coffee and bent slightly to hold it near Cassandra's face, letting the steam drift up into her face.

Less than fifteen seconds and she was opening her eyes, lifting her head. "Coffee?" she mumbled.

Ezekiel nearly lost the tray laughing. She gave him a puzzled look as she took the mug from Jacob, sipping it slowly. Jacob slid back into his side of the bed and took one of the plates, smiling at both of them, and they were all quiet for a moment as they ate. They all wore the marks of last night, livid purple hickeys, red hairline scratches, dark fingertip bruises. He could feel the ache in one shoulder where Jacob had bitten him. And someone had bitten his tongue; he wasn't sure who. The sight of those marks made him feel flushed with a base kind of pride, a sign to the world: _Ezekiel Jones was here._ He couldn't help but sneak glances between the two of them, looking from one to the other like he was slightly afraid they'd vanish.

He was looking at the warm pink flush in Cassandra's cheeks when Jacob reached over and brushed his knuckles over his jaw. Ezekiel startled a little, glancing back at the man, and the cowboy smiled at him warmly. "We're not going to disappear, Jones," he remarked, the little lines around his eyes deepening; Ezekiel was endlessly fond of those lines.

"Aren't you?" he blurted before he could stop himself, then winced. _Wow, real smooth, Jones. Way to sound insecure, mate, top shelf._

Cassandra set down the empty mug and took his nearest hand in both of hers, idly playing with his fingers for a moment before lifting his hand to her mouth and kissing his fingertips. Little finger. "No." Ring finger. "We're not." Middle finger. "Not unless…" Index finger. "…you want us to." Thumb. "Do you?" Palm.

"No," he replied, a tremor to his voice that hadn't been there before. Maybe he hadn't been entirely aware last night, but wow, her lips were very soft.

Jacob's callused hand slid up his spine to the nape of his neck, lingering there oh-so-very lightly. "Good. I don't want either of you to go anywhere, either," he murmured, his breath tickling the shell of Ezekiel's ear. "Wine or no wine, Jonesy, I liked last night. I'd like to do it again." He nibbled lightly on Ezekiel's earlobe, then pressed his lips to the soft spot just below it, lingering for a long moment before pulling back. "Maybe a revisit of the shower?"

Ezekiel was shivering all over the place now, but he wasn't cold. Not the littlest bit. In fact, he was feeling quite flushed.

"Mm, the water pressure in your shower is _marvellous,"_ Cassandra agreed, still holding Ezekiel's hand and kissing it. She turned his hand over and dragged her pearly whites over the inside of his wrist, gently biting the delicate skin between her teeth before letting go again.

Yep, he was definitely feeling warmer now.

"Being five of the world's foremost art experts pays a very pretty penny." Jacob dragged his tongue over Ezekiel's pulse point, then the livid bite mark on his shoulder.

Was it hot in here? He was certain it was. Very hot.

The cowboy blew lightly in his ear, making him startle and gasp—he did _not_ squeak, no sir, because Ezekiel Jones did not squeak over a bit of loveplay, nuh-uh.

"The great Ezekiel Jones speechless?" Cassandra giggled and ran a hand down his chest. "When's the last time that happened?"

Jacob chortled, "Last night."

"True."

Another not-squeak escaped him when Jacob mock-growled and snapped his teeth beside Ezekiel's ear. "C'mon, Jonesy. Shower time."


End file.
